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Reign of the Dwarves

(DM Beginnings Story)

Original plot by The Dwarven Mercinary; altered and fully developed by Dec.

Three hundred twnety years ago, born into the lands of Myrgard were the famous Dwarven kin. With their short, stocky feature, love of explosives, and a passionate hatred of Ghols, they roamed their lands and layed waste and destruction upon anything or anyone who dared to oppose them.

The Dwarven folk's lives were hard and stressful. They were small in size, as well as their numbers, and traveled around their home province with only the drive to rid their land of the Ghols.

After a hundred years passed, the Dwarven race was increasing in it's overall population. They soon formed several congregations of Dwarves that traveled together. These large groups were enough to scare even the largest pack of Ghols, the Dwarves furthering their chance for existence. Their pyrotechnics techniques also became immensly deadly and accurate, their true past-time since they could do little else but defend themselves for generations. Before long, the Dwarves were one of the most formidible races existing in the West.

The land was full of life. Birds sang cheerful tunes, breezes blew the scented aromas of the mustard flower throught the valleys and up into the Cloudspine MountainsŠand the simple serenity of the Springtime, it could not have been better. The mighty Dwarves that forged through mountain passes inhabited by Ghols, down into crevásses and caves of the giant spiders, and through the lush river streams of the valley were almost unstoppableŠuntil one fateful day, the day the reign of the Dwarven folk came to a crash and a burning stop.

A small group of Dwarves was camping next to a dense and dark forest after a hard day's work of training some tobe Dwarven Warriors. The group consisted of several students, and two older warriors who were training them for upcoming battles against the more aggressives Ghol packs and clans (seeing as how Ghols did not truly organize into a civilization before the Dark inspired their congregation, that the Ghols had no more than small packs and clans, each with the common Ghol history and culture, like the Godhead, and each equally having its own traditions and ideals completely unique). Two of these Dwarven students were the best of friends. One Dwarf showed a natural skill and love for blowing Ghols to pieces. Ever since his father had died in a might battle in the Cloudspine with a terribly destructive Ghol pack (which his father's team had tracked it all the way across the Mustard Plains to the Clouspine Mountains), he had hated the GholsŠmaybe more than any other dwarf that had ever lived. His name was unknown, for he was too young to remember it when his father died. It was customaryfor his mentor, in such a case, to give him a name, and that he did: Fend, which means "Killer of Ghols" in the Ancient Dwarven Language. Fend was a fierce fighter and knew how to get things done. He was thought to be the second-best of the prodigious Dwarves in training in the Northern ProvinceŠsecond only to his friend, Balin.

Balin showed amazing talent, drive, and a gift that no other Dwarf possessedŠ He threw faster, harder, more consistently, and more accurately than any other Dwarf that ever lived. He said he just liked to "blow shit up." His skills were far beyond any other Dwarf's and his welcoming into the ranks of the War Clans of the Dwarves was greatly anticipated because of the lack of traditional soldiers the Armies of the West had available to fight the Fallen‹there had been inconceivable Human casualties. These two Dwarves and the other advanced group of students were with 'pon night made a truly dynamic squad.

That night, however, while camping next to the river, they were awakened by something they had never heard before. The sound of thundering footfalls sped closer towards them. The entire squad was awake within seconds. They stoked up their fire, blowing on it, and lit the cloth wicks of some of their molotov cocktails to prepare for lob. The thundering was extremely close, somewhere behind the darkness, and the Dwarves were scared for the first times i ntheir livesŠall except for Balin, the fearless Balin. Fend stared intensely upon the spot where the ground-hammering noise seemed to approach from. The Dwarvesn quickly threw down some satchel charges in between themselves and the thunder. When the last few satchels were being set with flings and tosses, from out of the thick foliage burst the largest being they had ever seen. 'Twas a TrowŠa giant which vertically spanned at least a dozen feet, towering as a great and deadly Colossus. The Dwarven squad panicked aat the size of the thing, and in the panic blindly tossed molotov cocktails in all directions, even upon their comrades. The Trow was an enormous and extremely powerful beast. With the ease of a single sweep of his foot, he sent body parts of the once alive Dwarves helplessly sailing, scattering across the floor of the forest where they were camped. Balin and Fend stood a distance from the Trow, hurling molotovs at his massive, muscular body. Each one exploded with the force that would have killed two Ghols, but nothing seemed to forestall the electric-blue colored beast. He laid waste to the squad to the point where only a few remained. Fend and Balin had parted to increase survival chance and persisted in throwing molotovs at the giant. The Trow was bleeding now in numerous places on his seemingly impervious body, and his naeck had a deep gash in the back of it. The Trow approached a smaller Dwarf and kicked it squarely in the head, sending the skull flying and pulverizing Fend in the stomach. Fend was knocked completely knocked over and had the wind knocked out of him, as could be guessed. He was lying on the ground and was badly hit that he vomitted a mouthful of blood. Balin spotted Fend and knew he was in grave danger. The Trow proceeded to decapitate and kill yet another Dwarf which happened to be the last one besides Balin and Fend, the squad nearly decimated. Balin pulled out a satchel change and furiously tied it to one of his molotov cocktail bottles. The Trow became dangerously close to Fend when Balin gave a mighty heave and great exháil of pure effort and desire and sent the explosive, sailing throgh the air, flighting towards the Trow's head. The Trow, who was about to finish the poor Dwarf off, was hit squarly in the back of the neck with such great force by the explosion that his head was completely blown off and fell to the ground with a tumble. Fend, who was still knocked senseless, laid there helplessly as the mammoth sized body of the Trow slowly fell, frozen as stone (and nearly as heavy), tipped and fell towards the bundled Fend, the Killer of Ghols crushed to death by the extreme weight.

Balin stayed up all night mourning over his friends' deaths, yet he never shed a tear. His eyes became small, dark, and round. His heart was full of hatred. For a while, all he could do was lay there and gaze upward upon the starsŠlike little pricks of wrongful and heinous deaths. He helped himself up a short while after and examined the Trow head and body, taking in the details that he could not pick up in the small, but intense, battle. The Trow had turned a greyish-green color and had nothing as clothing except a leather skirt and a belt of skullsŠthese were Dwarven skulls. Balin walked up to the head of the beast and noticed it was almost the size of his body. With all his might, he rolled the head towards the fire and pushed it into the ring of rocks where it burned to ashes.

When Balin returned to his home in the great city of Myrgard, he found that many of his fellow Myrgardians had left for political reasons involving some kind of diplomatic war between Myrgard and Stoneheim, and that many also left because of physical danger from the increasing Ghol attacks around the city and the terrible horror stories and tales of the supposéd "Fallen Lords" who had been destroying the West. They had avoided the Mustard Plains because they were strategically useless and without threatŠuntil then when the Dwarves had begun to aid the Western Armies with Dwarven Auxiliaries.

Balin, being an incomperably skilled fighter and a fairly good leader, summoned all the bravest Dwarves to a meeting where he announced his plan of a new and very special War Clan of only Dwarves. He wanted revenge, you see, and he created his clan of the finest Dwarven Warriors that ever existed, including the great Oleg of the Barrier. The clan grew and grew, passing through golden ages, severe crises, and countless moments of history. As they seek out their enemies and destroy them the strength and influence of the clan increases as well.

In order to keep the Dwarven race alive, Balin created the Dwarven Missionaries.